Over the years, Margaretta Stronginthearm and Gimli, son of Gloin, became
great friends. Though the dwarf lived in the Glittering Caves, he did
indeed have kin in Erebor. He visited them often, and every time he would
make a point to stop in Dale to see Margaretta. The two spent many
pleasant afternoons together over tea (or more often ale) and stories.
Gimli taught Margaretta to swear in dwarfish, and she always made a point
of having a supply of blueberry tarts for him to enjoy. She also sold him
many belt knives, for he was as hard on them as he had once claimed.
Though she got news of him regularly from Gimli, she saw Legolas only once more. It was many years later, when Margaretta was very old and long retired. Nephew Halorec now ran Burleigh and Stronginthearm's, with help from his daughter, Illya. Though Margaretta continued to design weapons occasionally, she was content to spend most of her days outside the shop, people-watching and letting the sun warm her aching bones. 'Twas there that the elf found her, dozing quietly.
"Margaretta," he said softly, gently touching his aged friend's arm. She awoke with a start.
"Who?" she demanded, glancing around. She saw Legolas. "So, you return at last, Master Elf. About time."
"It is Legolas, remember?" the elf said. He knew very old humans sometimes lost their memories, and he worried that had happened to Margaretta.
"I remember everything, Legolas," Margaretta informed him. "Why have you not come to visit me before this?"
"Time passes differently for elves, my lady. I did not realize how long it has been. My apologies," the elf said, bestowing his best smile on the former shopkeeper.
She obediently blushed. "You still make me feel like an untried maiden, Legolas," she accused.
The elf laughed. "Again, I apologize. To me, you are forever beautiful."
"Flatterer. You did not come here to shower me with compliments. I presume Gimli told you I have grown old, and sick?" Margaretta asked. The elf nodded. "My mortality does not disturb you?"
Legolas hesitated. "It does," he admitted finally. "But I could not let you go without talking once more. I truly do value your telling me your story. I can only imagine how painful it was."
"Pshaw! Time heals all wounds, and that was a very long time ago, young elf," the old woman countered.
"Young elf? Margaretta, I am your elder by several thousand years," Legolas laughed.
"You may have seen more seasons, but it is I who am old. You said yourself, time passes differently for elves. It can take an elf decades to experience what humans live through daily. Trust me, to my eyes, you are young," Margaretta explained.
Legolas sighed. "Lately, I do not feel young," he said softly.
"This new Age sits heavily on you?" Margaretta asked, her voice concerned.
Legolas nodded. "Most of my people have left this land," he said sadly. "I think, when Aragorn dies, I too will seek the sea."
"Gimli will miss you. I would say I will miss you, but I think I will leave this world before you," she said matter-of-factly. Legolas said nothing, merely looked sad. Then, Margaretta did what she had wanted to all those years ago, but had not had the courage to try. She reached up and gently touched the elf's face, ran gnarled fingers through his hair. "Middle Earth will be much the poorer without elves in it," she said, dropping her hand into her lap.
Legolas smiled. "Some remnant may remain, though I doubt it. Still, not everything will leave with us. Hobbits and dwarves are still here."
"Dwarves do not come out of the Mountain as often as they did when I was young. And I have still never met a hobbit. No, the Age of Man has driven the wonder from the world," Margaretta sighed.
"There is wonder of a different sort, now," the elf protested.
"Oh, ignore me. It is only the ramblings of an old woman who's time has passed. Let us talk of happier things. Did your lady like her sword?" the former shopkeeper changed the subject.
"She did, especially when I told her the tale. I always meant to bring Mithsewwen to meet you but.." he shrugged.
"I would have liked to meet her. Ah, well, done is done. Tell me what else you have been up to. I hear you have set up a home in Ithilien?"
Legolas nodded. Before he could begin to tell his old friend about his new home, a young maiden came out of the shop, bearing a laden tea tray. "Do you need anything, Nana?" she asked as she set the tray down on a side table. Then she saw the elf.
"No, Katerina, dear," Margaretta replied, but the girl was not listening. She was far too busy staring at Legolas. The old woman saw her expression and had to suppress a giggle. "Katerina? You are staring at Legolas, of the Fellowship of the Ring. He is an old and dear friend of mine and Uncle Gimli's."
"Uncle Gimli?" Legolas asked in an undertone.
"Well, the children couldn't very well call him plainly, and he would not have 'Master Dwarf', so 'Uncle Gimli' it was," Margaretta explained. She raised her voice so the maiden could hear. "Katerina? Would you please get us another cup? Katerina? KATERINA!"
The girl jumped. "Yes, Nana?" she asked, still staring at Legolas. Margaretta repeated her request. The child bobbed a curtsey and disappeared back into the house.
Margaretta turned to Legolas. "She is a good girl, my great-granddaughter, but somewhat flighty. She writes very good poetry, though. She lets me read it sometimes. I suspect her work will be full of blonde elves for the foreseeable future."
The elf laughed. "You finally got your jest in, Margaretta. Too bad Gimli was not here to witness it."
"I will tell him when next I see him. Or you will," the old woman said. Then, her great-granddaughter reappeared, cup in hand. The maiden could not take her eyes off Legolas, but she managed to get the cup onto the tray without mishap. Katerina bobbed another curtsey before going back in. Then she went up to her room and began to write stories of what it would be like if a girl like her joined the Fellowship, back in the olden days. Of course, she would save the day and Legolas would fall in love with her...Katerina got lost in her fantasy until suppertime, and often for many days afterward.
Legolas and Margaretta spent a pleasant afternoon discussing many things. They traded stories of Gimli. Legolas told her of Ithilien. Margaretta told him of her family. When the sun began to set, the elf noticed his friend had fallen asleep. He gently kissed the old woman on her forehead. "Fare thee well, Margaretta of the Blade," he whispered.
"Fare thee well, Legolas," Margaretta replied.
"I thought you asleep," the elf said, startled.
"The elderly sleep lightly, young elf. But I think it is time for me to sleep deeply in truth. I am glad you came back to see me once again," the old woman said.
"As am I," Legolas answered. "I will let you rest now, Margaretta. Farewell."
"Farewell, Legolas. I have always treasured having met you," Margaretta said.
"And I, you," the elf replied. Then, with a soft smile, he took his leave.
Margaretta Stronginthearm died peacefully six weeks later, surrounded by family and friends. She did get the chance to see Gimli once more, and told him about how she finally teased Legolas. The dwarf had a good laugh at his elf's expense. It remained a cherished memory long after he sailed West.
The Nargothondian hung in the shop until all who remembered its worth were long gone. The shop changed hands several times, and the blade was lost. Many years later, legends sprung up of the magic sword of Margaretta of the Blade. Hidden for centuries, it would be found only by a woman of great courage, in a time of great darkness, and would bring the wonder back into the world. It has never been found.
Author's note---Tolkien didn't have much to say about the Battle of Dale, but here's what little he mentioned, for reference.
"At the same time as the great armies besieged Minas Tirith a host of the allies of Sauron that had long threatened the borders of King Brand crossed the River Carnen, and Brand was driven back to Dale. There he had the aid of the Dwarves of Erebor; and there was a great battle at the Mountain's feet. It lasted three days, but in the end both King Brand and King Dain Ironfoot were slain, and the Easterlings had the victory. But they could not take the Gate, and many, both Dwarves and Men, took refuge in Erebor, and there withstood a siege.
"When news came of the great victories in the South, then Sauron's northern army was filled with dismay; and the besieged came forth and routed them, and the remnant fled into the East and troubled Dale no more."
----"The Return of the King", J.R.R. Tolkien, appendix B, page 1069
Though she got news of him regularly from Gimli, she saw Legolas only once more. It was many years later, when Margaretta was very old and long retired. Nephew Halorec now ran Burleigh and Stronginthearm's, with help from his daughter, Illya. Though Margaretta continued to design weapons occasionally, she was content to spend most of her days outside the shop, people-watching and letting the sun warm her aching bones. 'Twas there that the elf found her, dozing quietly.
"Margaretta," he said softly, gently touching his aged friend's arm. She awoke with a start.
"Who?" she demanded, glancing around. She saw Legolas. "So, you return at last, Master Elf. About time."
"It is Legolas, remember?" the elf said. He knew very old humans sometimes lost their memories, and he worried that had happened to Margaretta.
"I remember everything, Legolas," Margaretta informed him. "Why have you not come to visit me before this?"
"Time passes differently for elves, my lady. I did not realize how long it has been. My apologies," the elf said, bestowing his best smile on the former shopkeeper.
She obediently blushed. "You still make me feel like an untried maiden, Legolas," she accused.
The elf laughed. "Again, I apologize. To me, you are forever beautiful."
"Flatterer. You did not come here to shower me with compliments. I presume Gimli told you I have grown old, and sick?" Margaretta asked. The elf nodded. "My mortality does not disturb you?"
Legolas hesitated. "It does," he admitted finally. "But I could not let you go without talking once more. I truly do value your telling me your story. I can only imagine how painful it was."
"Pshaw! Time heals all wounds, and that was a very long time ago, young elf," the old woman countered.
"Young elf? Margaretta, I am your elder by several thousand years," Legolas laughed.
"You may have seen more seasons, but it is I who am old. You said yourself, time passes differently for elves. It can take an elf decades to experience what humans live through daily. Trust me, to my eyes, you are young," Margaretta explained.
Legolas sighed. "Lately, I do not feel young," he said softly.
"This new Age sits heavily on you?" Margaretta asked, her voice concerned.
Legolas nodded. "Most of my people have left this land," he said sadly. "I think, when Aragorn dies, I too will seek the sea."
"Gimli will miss you. I would say I will miss you, but I think I will leave this world before you," she said matter-of-factly. Legolas said nothing, merely looked sad. Then, Margaretta did what she had wanted to all those years ago, but had not had the courage to try. She reached up and gently touched the elf's face, ran gnarled fingers through his hair. "Middle Earth will be much the poorer without elves in it," she said, dropping her hand into her lap.
Legolas smiled. "Some remnant may remain, though I doubt it. Still, not everything will leave with us. Hobbits and dwarves are still here."
"Dwarves do not come out of the Mountain as often as they did when I was young. And I have still never met a hobbit. No, the Age of Man has driven the wonder from the world," Margaretta sighed.
"There is wonder of a different sort, now," the elf protested.
"Oh, ignore me. It is only the ramblings of an old woman who's time has passed. Let us talk of happier things. Did your lady like her sword?" the former shopkeeper changed the subject.
"She did, especially when I told her the tale. I always meant to bring Mithsewwen to meet you but.." he shrugged.
"I would have liked to meet her. Ah, well, done is done. Tell me what else you have been up to. I hear you have set up a home in Ithilien?"
Legolas nodded. Before he could begin to tell his old friend about his new home, a young maiden came out of the shop, bearing a laden tea tray. "Do you need anything, Nana?" she asked as she set the tray down on a side table. Then she saw the elf.
"No, Katerina, dear," Margaretta replied, but the girl was not listening. She was far too busy staring at Legolas. The old woman saw her expression and had to suppress a giggle. "Katerina? You are staring at Legolas, of the Fellowship of the Ring. He is an old and dear friend of mine and Uncle Gimli's."
"Uncle Gimli?" Legolas asked in an undertone.
"Well, the children couldn't very well call him plainly, and he would not have 'Master Dwarf', so 'Uncle Gimli' it was," Margaretta explained. She raised her voice so the maiden could hear. "Katerina? Would you please get us another cup? Katerina? KATERINA!"
The girl jumped. "Yes, Nana?" she asked, still staring at Legolas. Margaretta repeated her request. The child bobbed a curtsey and disappeared back into the house.
Margaretta turned to Legolas. "She is a good girl, my great-granddaughter, but somewhat flighty. She writes very good poetry, though. She lets me read it sometimes. I suspect her work will be full of blonde elves for the foreseeable future."
The elf laughed. "You finally got your jest in, Margaretta. Too bad Gimli was not here to witness it."
"I will tell him when next I see him. Or you will," the old woman said. Then, her great-granddaughter reappeared, cup in hand. The maiden could not take her eyes off Legolas, but she managed to get the cup onto the tray without mishap. Katerina bobbed another curtsey before going back in. Then she went up to her room and began to write stories of what it would be like if a girl like her joined the Fellowship, back in the olden days. Of course, she would save the day and Legolas would fall in love with her...Katerina got lost in her fantasy until suppertime, and often for many days afterward.
Legolas and Margaretta spent a pleasant afternoon discussing many things. They traded stories of Gimli. Legolas told her of Ithilien. Margaretta told him of her family. When the sun began to set, the elf noticed his friend had fallen asleep. He gently kissed the old woman on her forehead. "Fare thee well, Margaretta of the Blade," he whispered.
"Fare thee well, Legolas," Margaretta replied.
"I thought you asleep," the elf said, startled.
"The elderly sleep lightly, young elf. But I think it is time for me to sleep deeply in truth. I am glad you came back to see me once again," the old woman said.
"As am I," Legolas answered. "I will let you rest now, Margaretta. Farewell."
"Farewell, Legolas. I have always treasured having met you," Margaretta said.
"And I, you," the elf replied. Then, with a soft smile, he took his leave.
Margaretta Stronginthearm died peacefully six weeks later, surrounded by family and friends. She did get the chance to see Gimli once more, and told him about how she finally teased Legolas. The dwarf had a good laugh at his elf's expense. It remained a cherished memory long after he sailed West.
The Nargothondian hung in the shop until all who remembered its worth were long gone. The shop changed hands several times, and the blade was lost. Many years later, legends sprung up of the magic sword of Margaretta of the Blade. Hidden for centuries, it would be found only by a woman of great courage, in a time of great darkness, and would bring the wonder back into the world. It has never been found.
Author's note---Tolkien didn't have much to say about the Battle of Dale, but here's what little he mentioned, for reference.
"At the same time as the great armies besieged Minas Tirith a host of the allies of Sauron that had long threatened the borders of King Brand crossed the River Carnen, and Brand was driven back to Dale. There he had the aid of the Dwarves of Erebor; and there was a great battle at the Mountain's feet. It lasted three days, but in the end both King Brand and King Dain Ironfoot were slain, and the Easterlings had the victory. But they could not take the Gate, and many, both Dwarves and Men, took refuge in Erebor, and there withstood a siege.
"When news came of the great victories in the South, then Sauron's northern army was filled with dismay; and the besieged came forth and routed them, and the remnant fled into the East and troubled Dale no more."
----"The Return of the King", J.R.R. Tolkien, appendix B, page 1069